


Fear & Courage

by myladyriver



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, just starting out, semi hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 20:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14245005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myladyriver/pseuds/myladyriver
Summary: Hermione considered asking the other witch how she had ended up hurt so badly, but at the last moment decided she may not want to know. Bellatrix sniffed, shifting her weight in an attempt to ease her discomfort, eventually sighing and giving up. Seeming to sense the direction of the younger woman’s thoughts, she spoke again, her voice rough and rasping.“It wasn’t your people,” she volunteered quietly. “No need to worry your little head about it. You won’t get any messages notifying you of a death. At least not on my account.” Hermione’s brow creased, her concern intensifying. There weren’t many people who were capable of doing so much damage to a woman such as Bellatrix; in fact, she could only think of one.





	Fear & Courage

“How have you survived for so long?” Hermione whispered, kneeling before the dark woman.

“By not caring if I died...By shaping fear -- mine, others -- twisting it into something I could use.” Bellatrix paused, peering at the mudblood girl who held herself with surprising bravery and defiance. “What about you? You’ve lived, you’ve made it this far anyway...You’ve faced the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters and survived. Not many can say that. How’ve you done it, then?”

“I’ve survived by battling at the front, by never stopping, by damn near asking to die yet fighting like hell not to. That’s how.” They had each used drastically different words to describe their methods of survival, but they each had a niggling feeling that despite that, there was a degree of commonality in their thought processes. They both had been fighting tooth and nail for almost as long as they could remember, putting something other than themselves first. Bellatrix relied on fear while Hermione relied on courage, but though they may at first seem like opposites, one cannot be courageous without first being afraid, and turning fear into something useful took a great deal of fire and courage. 

Hermione considered asking the other witch how she had ended up hurt so badly, but at the last moment decided she may not want to know. Bellatrix sniffed, shifting her weight in an attempt to ease her discomfort, eventually sighing and giving up. Seeming to sense the direction of the younger woman’s thoughts, she spoke again, her voice rough and rasping.

“It wasn’t your people,” she volunteered quietly. “No need to worry your little head about it. You won’t get any messages notifying you of a death. At least not on my account.” Hermione’s brow creased, her concern intensifying. There weren’t many people who were capable of doing so much damage to a woman such as Bellatrix; in fact, she could only think of one.

“I thought…” she began uncertainly, unsure how to continue and phrase her confusion and worry. “Aren’t you...you know, his right hand, or something to that effect?” A dry, barking laugh escaped Bellatrix, seeming to be genuinely surprised out of her.

“Oh, you naive girl,” she replied, her voice twisting the words. “Do you really think He cares for any of us? For me? It doesn’t matter, my place in our hierarchy, or what I’ve done for Him. If I disappoint Him, aggravate Him, fuck up, or catch Him at the wrong moment...Please. You cannot truly be so simple-minded. I expected better of you.” Hermione’s deep concern for Bellatrix was momentarily derailed by the comment that Bellatrix had any kind of expectations for her whatsoever, let alone that they were higher than this. 

“I’m sorry,” Hermione offered, at a loss for words.

“Don’t be,” Bellatrix scoffed. “I’ve finally learned my lesson, some time ago. This is nothing.” Hermione started, taking in the injured witch as if for the first time, eying her torn dress, the dried blood staining her semi-exposed body and caked into her hair, the bruises beginning to bloom on her throat, and the delicate way she was holding herself, like every breath hurt. And this was nothing? God help me. 

“Do me a favor,” Hermione said abruptly, her tone changing from before, stronger now. Bellatrix started, her eyes flickering up to look at her. “Come to me next time this happens. And the time after that. When you’re hurt...however it happens, please. Do me a favor and come here,” she implored, gesturing with one hand around at her house as she finished speaking. Bellatrix was clearly taken aback by the question, and folded her arms protectively over her chest. 

“I…” Bellatrix trailed off, ducking her head slightly, her curls falling to to partially conceal her face. Staring at Hermione’s knees, she considered all possible motives that the young girl might have for making such a suggestion, and eventually, deciding that even if the girl had ill-intentions, she really didn’t pose much of a threat to someone like her. “Perhaps,” she finally answered, jutting her chin out in a defiant motion, an old habit she fell back to when she was self-conscious or uncertain. “Perhaps.”


End file.
